His Final Stand
by PaintBritt
Summary: The final chapters of Severus Snape as seen from his own eyes. HP7 SPOILERS.


AN: I wrote this right after I finished the book on the 22nd. I got it a bit before afternoon on the 21st, so I ended up staying up all night to write it. It probably gets weaker as it goes on, but I still wanted to share it. And yes, I'm aware I did get a bit wild with Snape's personality. It's kind of hard not to in the situation where he suddenly gains a whole new side of "Human." This was all really written for the last line. I hope you enjoy it at least a little bit 3

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He had acted quickly. And, with all the dodgy hiding business he had to attend to as he hurried through his own halls, he could only hope he had acted quickly enough. Again the mark had burned its dour note against his flesh, the bitter taste of leather against the back of his throat a reminder he knew it was close. It had happened in his school. The time had come. The final act was to begin. The boy knew. But he had to know more.

He took caution in his skirting in and out of shadows despite the silence of the halls. Strict security rules had kept the school on an antsy lockdown, especially at night. The students were not aware of the happenings nor were they probably roused from sleep with curiosity. He knew however, with a pang of urgency, there was trouble somewhere within the famed walls of the supposedly impenetrable Hogwarts.

Alecto and Amycus had no need to tell him of their current location, then or earlier. The Dark Lord had implanted the suspicion, and certainly he of all people would know, especially if those fools were to be the ones to act. He was headed to the Ravenclaw Dormitory, as quickly as his feet could scurry him beneath his robes. He prepared himself for a possible rescue mission, but he hoped it would merely come to catching up with the escaped - a personal appearance on the other side could cost them precious time.

Footsteps. More then one set of feet. They were in a hurry. He darted behind the closest suit of armor. He chanced a glance down the hall. They had covered more ground then he expected. With Minerva, however, he could not doubt they would escape; but in contrast he could easily doubt his current goal was obtainable. A flash of panic retched through him, though he held still as though untouched. After all this time, he could not let one thing escape the boy, not with so much riding on this final stand.

His thoughts came to a halt with the only visible figure left to stand for such a clattering of feet. He subconsciously noted: Invisibility Cloak. This complicated things. Mcgonagall poised herself for oncoming battle, and allowed her voice to carry with confidence but noted uncertainty. "Who is there?"

"It is I." he said, as he swung from his hiding place, looking as sallow as ever, wand raised. The introduction to him, he felt, was a bit anti-climatic in such a drawl tone. A feeble attempt at whimsy in his urgently racing brain. Again, things were even more complicated. "Where are the Carrows?" His voice had lost volume now.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus?" came her reply. He groaned mentally. If he'd had a damned thing to do with it, the Dark Lord would not have been so sloppily summoned. Now, however, was not the time to correct her. He dared to step closer. His eyes groped the air. He knew the boy was there, somewhere, probably just as ready to strike as the two visible of them.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder." he continued. Their all-business chat bristled like a tom. Professor McGonagall continued as expected.

"Really? And what gave you that impression?" It read too easily on her face that she knew full well. Stalling, merely stalling. He humored her, barely flexing his left arm. The mark still tingled vaguely, perhaps fueled by the panic and sense of urgency its pang has wrought. Her expression did not change in light of this expected information. "Oh, but naturally. You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

All the while, Severus Snape inched his way forward, as hidden and slick as he could manage. He ignored the lilt with which she said Death Eaters. The coin had been flipped, so to say, and was nearing the floor.

"I did not know it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."

"You have some objection?"

"I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"

"I thought I heard a disturbance."

"Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist-"

The name had been dropped. And so had, in effect, the coin.

His opponent fired, but he was trickier, and blasted her back with a forceful shield charm. His mind was buzzing, now; must not hurt the boy. Must not hurt Potter. Have to find him and keep him alive! Mcgonagall retaliated as quick as her witts permitted, and he was convinced at this point they allowed quite the speed. A lasso of fire, whipping at him from a wall-borrowed torch. He countered. The flames became something more in his favor - a twisting serpent. Before his beast could, however, attack, the form dissolved in to daggers. Without thought he pulled the old armor in front of him. The thrash of metal meeting breast plate crashed over his ears. They stuck well in the metal, and so would have been the end of Severus Snape.

A voice called for McGonagall. More teachers. Of course, more teachers! Flitwick was enraged and determined, with Slughorn pulling up behind, as he raised his wand towards him. "No! There will be no more murder at Hogwarts!" Recognition then. Not at him!

Foolish! The armor was an easy thing to manipulate in their dueling environment. No sooner had he thought it, the metal sprang to life and grabbed him.

"Come."

His mark sprang to life like a fanned flame. The high, harsh voice had beckoned just for him. The hissing hover of the word promised punishment if not obeyed.

Suddenly, this duel and searching for the Cloaked Harry Potter was the least of his worries. He struggled free of the gripping arms, some new duty lit in his chest, and he fled. Cries of his cowardice followed him, but still he ran. Again he was forced in to half-hiding, trying his best to hurry in the opposite direction, and out of Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, the unimpeded professors could wreak their havoc on every dorm in the school. The building was quickly a-flurry with activity, everyone was up in minutes. Evacuation, the rallying of defense, the constant movement made it hard for him to think of getting away untouched. In his wasted minutes of escape, finally came the voice again, only this time it was not for him alone.

It was for everyone.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood." Silence rang in the wake of Lord Voldemort's voice. The illusion of calm was broken when his second wave of speech fell upon their ears, his ears. "Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Once again, complications, complications! He battled with himself fervently, in his hiding place so close to escape, but was Harry Potter not the Number One? No, no, it served his purpose better to see him alive before he went to the Dark Lord. Certainly he would be searched for. Certainly the Dark Lord would bear down on him and make it all for naught. So many possibilities, so many grim endings. He fought inside his own mind, even as the battle started, and recoiled as though the new twinge of pain in his mark had been ten times worse. He was, however, being called more adamantly. Someone, he was certain, was probably sent out to find him. He looked out to the battle, quite unnoticed from his spot in the shadows. Even as curses flew past the great hourglass of Slytherin house, he was not illuminated there.

Decision time had come.

He made his way for the door. To the Dark Lord it was.

Some time after his departure, the emeralds used to keep track of house points would scatter to the floor, bamboozling those nearby as the broken hourglass emptied its contents. A vague symbolic stand to the last act of the brave slytherin who had marched to his death. Time had run out, Severus.

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Severus bowed near the place he had entered the room, answering the stated question. "Yes. My lord, their resistence is crumbling-" but his hope to continue was cut off by a high, clear voice.

"-and it is doing so without your help. Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there. Almost."

He fought with all his occlumency, all his will, all his soul, to keep the wizard before him from prying in to his whirring mind. He was not going to let him go back and fight, from the sounds of it. Not going to let him go and find Potter. He could not fail. He needed to be the one to find Potter.

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please." Bitter doubt snapped at him from the back of his mind. His own thoughts jived at him. _Did he give you what you desired so last time, Severus, you fool? She is still dead!_

Voldemort lifted himself from his seat, and had the full attention of Snape immediately. His brain was smashing circuits. He tried to avoid those crimson pools that would delve in to the meaning of everything. Of the present intent. Of the intent that had always been present, ever since she died. The voice that spoke to him remained cool, collected.

"I have a problem, Severus."

"My Lord?" He tried his best not to stammer. He was indeed caught off-guard by the statement. He watched as Voldemort motioned about with the wand, holding it prominently. It was a hazy dawning at first.

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?" he continued, boredly, but still inquiring.

Not so much a dawning that he was going to die…

"My-my Lord?" he managed as blankly as possible, trying to keep every hint of knowing from his voice. "I do not understand. You - you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No."

It was written in that one word, even as Voldemort continued.

"I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no."

He wasn't just going to die, and still the Dark Lord spoke.

"It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago." There was a sort if humor to his voice. Humor with malicious intent. Humor that wreaked not only of his death, but,

His failure.

"No difference." said Voldemort again. Snape knew it was to provoke an answer, but the revelation had left him too shocked to speak. All of it for nothing. If only he had refused the calls. He knew, and he tried to keep it well hidden, what was to happen next. He thought of any words he could muster, but when the Dark Lord began to move about again, he quelled himself. There was no more need for words from one Severus Snape, not for the moment.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus… Do you know why I have called you back from the battle?" he hissed. Severus's thoughts screamed _YES YES YES_.

But instead, "No, my Lord, and I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter." Even that hopeful thought wilted as the p escaped his lips.

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will stop it at any cost. He will come."

"But my Lord," and Severus still fought hard to keep out plea, "he might be killed accidentally by one other then yourself-" and again he sought to continue his reasoning, but was again cut off by the Dark Lord's hissing voice.

"My instructions to the Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends - the more, the better - but do not kill him."

Severus dared to feel a flare of rage towards the snake-like figure before him, feeling the fear or failing seep in to accepting hope was loss. Again he had to fight with everything to keep his emotions hidden from the bemused Voldemort. His following words agitated Snape, and his fading cause, even further.

"But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

Snape bit his tongue inside his mouth, as his barely checked mind screeched rebellion._ Not only to you, you fool, not only to you! _His lips formed a different truth. "My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But - let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can - " and the resulting impatience from the powerful wizard cut his breath short.

"I have told you, no! My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happened when I finally meet the boy!" He watched the robed serpent twist before him, in frustration so far hidden.

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely - ?" he replied. He was boiling down in to an excellent actor. Playing the part of the dumbfounded servant who knew nothing of the coming end.

"-but there is a question, Severus. There is." Snape watched, mentally idly, as again the long pale fingers fumbled gracefully with the wand. "Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I - I can't answer that, my Lord." Yes, he could.

"Can't you?" He knew Voldemort was livid. He, himself, was there as well, while his mind repeated yes yes yes. He had nonetheless gone pale, fighting so hard not to flush red with fury. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand,. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

"I - I have no explanation, my Lord." He had looked away. Looked away for fear of his well-hidden fury erupting at last, to keep himself from getting a longer death then he needed. He settled for watching Nagini, Voldemort's beloved pet snake, twist in a magical cage of some sort. Something he had largely ignored until now. His eyes did not flicker as still the Dark Lord continued.

"I sought out a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous Master. I took it from the grave o Albus Dumbledore."

Everything inside Snape's head snapped.

It was not the answer of love, as he had been so willing to scream this whole time. The answer that had kept him working all this time.

Some vague, clinging hope, had vanished in his eyes. He could feel the light in them flee the current situation. He had not only failed. He and Dumbledore, in their follies, had helped Voldemort to succeed. "My Lord - let me go to the boy - " but he knew the Dark Lord, holder of the Elder Wand, the malfunctioning Elder Wand, there in his hand, would never let him go.

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner…and I think I have my answer."

Snape stayed silent as Voldemort whispered out these words, and then after. He knew what was coming next. But at least now, he was going to die knowing the truth in his death.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

There was no time for Severus to be jovial that the Dark Lord still believed him a complete follower. That he had never helped the other side. Besides, he had failed, and so had Dumbledore in his planning. "My Lord - "

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you like, Severus, The Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

"My Lord!" He raised his wand, as if to give it one last go.

"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I must master Potter at last."

Snape's heart stopped as The Elder Wand flicked. However, not because of a flash of green light, but from confusion. What had - and then it was clear. The snake cage, once so idly floating, came in on him, came upon him. There was a hissing, he would have assumed Parseltongue had he the mind at the moment, and the snake set in on him.

He yelled, struggling against the cage, trying to push it away, even as the fangs pierced his neck. He heard not what Voldemort said, before disappearing from the Shrieking Shack. His prized killer Nagini joined him in her protective case. Severus was left to dangle there, moments passing like years, before he collapsed to the floor.

He gushed with every beat of his heart. Something vital was punctured, something, something…no, he had failed, he had failed and he was dying. He tried to stopper the blood with his fingers, but it seeped easily past. He had failed to reach the boy. Failed to tell him the final secret. Fail Dumbledore.

He thought it was death playing a trick on him when the invisibility cloak swept away from Harry Potter, who stood looking down on him. He hadn't the energy. Nor the time alive. Impulsive, gather, yes, as Harry pulled him close…

He gurgled, bubbles of blood at the sides of his lips popping. "Take..it…take…it" was all he managed, as he poured his mind through his mouth in to the silvery contents hanging there. Not gas, not liquid, but it began to erupt from his face's everything. Potter set to gathering the memories with a flask he obtained, but as he did, Severus's mind burned with one last, passionate goal.

He pulled, but his grip was loose. He demanded with his voice, but it too was weak. He was moments away from succumbing to death. "Look…at…me…" he whispered to Potter. The boy obliged.

Severus Snape's soul fled from life with the final image of starring in to the young eyes of Lily Evans, the woman he loved.


End file.
